


White Gem

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5261867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being captured trespassing in Mirkwood is not how Thorin wanted to be reunited with Legolas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Gem

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Before the fall of Erebor, Thranduil and Thrain (or Thror) made a deal to marry their heirs to each other. Perhaps Thorin and Legolas had met and were quite happy with this arrangement and were actually keen on each other. Smaug attacks a few years into the engagement though, and when Thranduil doesn't risk his army to help the them, the Dwarves leave for the Blue Mountains. No contact is ever made between them again. Until Thorin's company have to enter Mirkwood years and years later, get lost, almost eaten by spiders and then captured and taken to Thranduil's kingdom. Awkward. +10 for Legolas being hurt that Thorin left without saying anything (maybe he would have gone with) and refusing to talk to him at first. Thorin is equally as angry at Legolas not forcing his father to help them. +100 for protective daddy!Thranduil. +1000 for Fili and Kili watching Thorin flounder trying to talk to Legolas and finding it hilarious.+10000 for both of them ended up keeping some sort of courting trinket and they each find out the other still keeps it on their person.” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23174356#t23174356).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They’re headed for the dungeons, as only Thorin knows—none of the others have been in Thranduil’s halls before. But Thorin’s broken apart from them, to Fíli and Kíli’s instant protest, which rouses Dwalin to snarl, “Where are you taking him?” The guards—Feren, if memory serves, and another that Thorin doesn’t recognize—don’t answer.

Thorin hushes his nephews and tells the others, “I’ll be alright.” There’s a knot in his stomach that drives him to reach a hand into his tunic and clutch the one thing of value the guards didn’t take from him—a silver necklace he keeps on a long chain, forged by dwarves with Elven jewels. He lets himself be lead away, down another hall, and forcibly lets his grip on the necklace go; it’ll do no good to think of it now. He recognizes the path they’re on and almost hopes he’s wrong. He’s not sure he’s ready for it. But sure enough, they stop before the prince’s champers, Feren pausing to knock on the door. 

They open, and now Thorin knows who requested him to be taken aside. He gives the guards a subtle glare, daring them to escort him any further, and walks into the room of his own accord, the necklace glimmering cold against his chest and thankfully hidden by his clothes. Legolas stands back to give him room, then closes the door. 

Thorin doesn’t make it far. A few paces, and he stops, stiff and distinctly awkward. He doesn’t know what to say, because he doesn’t know where they stand, doesn’t even know how _he_ feels anymore. He spent so many years trying not to think about this. At first, he tries not to look at Legolas. But Legolas comes only an arm’s length away, eyeing him quietly. 

Thorin betrays himself to return the look. It makes his chest tighten—Legolas looks _exactly_ how Thorin left him. He hasn’t aged a day. He’s thin, tall and beautiful, achingly so, with his pale blond hair cascading elegantly over his green robes. The last time they stood in this room, they’d snuck off from a royal feast, touching fervently and wondering in whispers if they should wait for _the day_. Now Thorin wishes they hadn’t. He would’ve liked to have felt Legolas wholly, shared themselves completely, before it all fell apart.

The dragon came after. The fire, the destruction, no help from the elves and the shattering of their bond. Thorin finds that when he looks at Legolas, he still _wants_ them to come together. But he’s angry underneath that, and years of bitterness keeps the frown on his face. Legolas doesn’t look any happier, just forlorn instead of livid. 

Legolas is the first to break the silence. He asks in his sweet, melodic voice, “Why did you not tell me you were leaving?”

Thorin snorts. He shakes his head, looks aside, and finds that even now he doesn’t want to snap at his prince. His voice still comes out a growl. “Did you really expect me to, after your father abandoned us?”

Legolas at least has the decency to wince. “It would have been in vain. Too many of our people would have died in a cause that seemed all but hopeless. We had hoped you would simply leave, that you would come to our doors—”

“Why would we expect Elven hospitality when we saw none on the battlefield?” Thorin practically snarls—speaking of that time always irks him, makes him nearly irate, and he expects Legolas to back down, always softer and the more level-headed one, but Legolas’ eyes flash just as bright.

“But if you had asked,” Legolas mutters hotly, to Thorin’s surprise, “I could have gone with you.” When Thorin doesn’t respond, too busy studying this answer, Legolas gestures vaguely to the side, going on, “Or you could have simply stayed—you would have been accepted without question—”

“Why?” Thorin counters, “I was promised to you as Thráin’s heir, but now what am I an heir of?”

Legolas’ nose wrinkles. His face is clearly upset, but he bears it quietly. He’s the one that always had to rein their arguments in. Thorin waits for it now, until Legolas murmurs, feather-light, “I had thought we had become more than just the promises of our fathers.”

Thorin _wanted_ that. He still does, but it’s a fantasy they can’t afford. He has people to be responsible for, and he has no intention of shacking up with his beautiful intended to leave the rest to ruin. Even now, he knows his companions are in the dungeons, while he enjoys Legolas’ luxury. It isn’t right. But he can see how sad Legolas already is, and he doesn’t want to add to that. He’s uncharacteristically silent while he puzzles out what to say.

Before he can figure it out, the doors suddenly burst open. Thorin turns, instinctively reaching for his belt, though all his weapons are gone. He’s not particularly surprised to see Thranduil sweeping in, the doors slamming shut behind him. His silver robes and glimmering crown make him look no more regal; his cold face says it all to Thorin. He informs them icily, “I should be present for this.”

“Ada,” Legolas mutters, cheeks a little pink and eyes hard. “I do not need my father’s permission to speak with my fiancé.”

“Fiancé,” Thranduil snorts, and Thorin doesn’t at all like the way his lips twist the word. “He left you without a word.” Thranduil marches right around Thorin and takes a stand in front of Legolas, as though physically shielding him from the Dwarven infestation in their home. To Thorin, Thranduil says, in no uncertain terms, “I will not allow you to hurt my son again, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Thorin can feel his lips curling up at the ends. He responds acidy, “I know you care for your elves and no one else, although if you loved your son as much as you claim, you might’ve saved his marriage by not allowing his fiancé’s people to perish.”

Thranduil doesn’t even answer the accusation, merely hisses, “I have saved them now, have I not? Or did you think you would find easy passage through the dangers of my realm, which only my protection has saved you from?”

Thorin nearly roars, “You have my people in the dungeons!”

“Only until I learned who they were. I would have—” But what he would’ve done, he doesn’t say, because Legolas’ fingers lock around his wrist, and he glances back over his shoulder. Legolas’ stern look seems to cow him, or at least tame him, and his voice is more level as he finishes, “They are now being brought to guest quarters, on Legolas’ kind request and nothing else.” Thorin needs only to look at Legolas to know it’s true.

“Ada,” Legolas gently asks, tugging his father’s sleeve, and it makes him seem as though _he’s_ the younger one, though in truth, he’s greatly Thorin’s senior. “Please, leave me to speak with him. I must make amends.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Thranduil returns, the heat gone in favour of concern. It reminds Thorin that Thranduil is only trying to protect his child, thought it doesn’t pardon his sins. Thorin never understood that before, as Thranduil was always like that, and Thorin had nothing to compare it to. Now he knows what it’s like, caring for Fíli and Kíli. That’s the only thing that keeps his mouth closed instead of snarling out what he really wants to say. 

Legolas insists, “Relationships are a compromise, and I wish for a chance to see if I may convince my intended to by mine again. Please, grant me this. You know I have found no other and will not, so long as this dwarf lives.”

Thorin can’t help but wonder if Thranduil secretly fantasizes about ending Thorin’s life, but of course, he’d never do it. He loves Legolas too much, and clearly, Legolas would mourn him. Thranduil slips one hand along Legolas’ cheeks and searches his eyes, but finally nods and withdraws. 

Thranduil takes a step back to the door, but pauses to tell Thorin, “If you hurt him again—”

Thorin interrupts, snapping, “I never wished him any harm, and you knew that of me when you sanctioned this.”

Thranduil looks like he deeply regrets the decision. But he does leave. When he opens the door, it lets the noise of the hall filter in, and Thorin turns towards it, recognizing Fíli and Kíli’s anxious voices. 

“Let us see him!” Fíli’s shouting, Kíli adding, “We’re not leaving otherwise—” followed by, “We just want to talk to him!” and “Let go of me—”

“My nephews,” Thorin tells Legolas.

Over his head, Legolas calls, “Feren! Allow them inside.”

Thranduil still leaves, which proves he knows that dwarves aren’t a threat to his son. The guards, obviously begrudging it, let Fíli and Kíli in. They’re instantly at Thorin’s side, both asking at once, “Are you alright?”

Physically, yes. But Thorin sighs and glances at Legolas, admitting, “I’m not sure yet.” Fíli and Kíli turn their questioning looks to him. Thorin expects Legolas to assure them that they’ll all be taken care of.

Instead, Legolas takes one step closer and falls to his knees, right at Thorin’s feet. While Thorin’s still gaping, he takes Thorin’s hand, and lifts it to his lips to chastely kiss the back. It remains in his grasp as he looks up, announcing earnestly, “I am deeply sorry for what you went through, Thorin, and if I could change the past, I would.” Thorin glances at Fíli and Kíli, who’ve dropped their worry and donned confusion. When Thorin looks back at him, Legolas’ face has become suddenly coy, almost sneaky—a look that Thorin remembers all too well, and it makes his face hotter than he’s ready for. Legolas squeezes Thorin’s hand, leaning forward and up on his delicate thighs, purring, “But I remember every teasing promise that you ever gave me, beloved, and I would be happy to bear any of the punishments you wished, or all at once—whatever it may take for me to be yours again.” 

Beat red with embarrassment, Thorin deliberately doesn’t look at his audience. He knows Legolas means it sincerely, but he can hear the seconds ticking away and Fíli and Kíli’s shock going with it. He wants to open his mouth and move them along, but doesn’t have the words, and then Kíli snorts, quickly suppressing the laughter that clearly wants to follow, and Fíli hisses, “Thorin, say something!”

Thorin still takes a moment to recover, then turns to them and barks, “Off to your quarters, now!” For once, they don’t argue. There’s sheer amusement on their faces as they scramble out, and he just hopes they realize what a strange situation this is, and that he’s not usually so clumsy at courting. 

As soon as they’re gone, Thorin turns back to the pretty elf at his feet and admits, “I’m willing to negotiate.”

Legolas smiles. From that angle, Thorin can see the slender silver chain beneath Legolas’ robes: the matching necklace he’s kept all these years.


End file.
